


Conceal me what I am

by wonthetrade



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/M, Rule 63, Twelfth Night AU, shakespeare au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 13:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8581105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonthetrade/pseuds/wonthetrade
Summary: So they cut the girl's hockey team at Cornwall. That's okay, Jack's going to play hockey no matter what.Or: the She's the Man AU no one asked for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Twelfth Night:  
>  _Conceal me what I am_ and be my aid for such disguise as haply shall become the form of my intent.  
> 

“That’s it, my life is over.” Jack rolls over, presses her face into the pillow, and lets out a wordless scream of rage.

A hand lands on her back. “Don’t be stupid, Jack,” Steph says softly. “Your life isn’t over.”

“Easy for you to say. You haven’t lost hockey.”

She’d had her sights set on BU. Hell, BU’d had their sights set on her, but how is she supposed to make it if she can’t play in her senior year? Which wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t for Cornwall up and deciding to cut all funding for girls’ hockey.

Jack can hear Steph’s eyeroll. Which is probably fair. Steph wouldn’t get it; she doesn’t play. Steph nudges at her shoulder. “Come on. Sit up and think. There has to be some way around this.”

Jack props herself up on her elbows and glares. “Look, the only reason I went to Cornwall rather than Illyria with you in the first place was because Cornwall had a hockey team and they were willing to give me a full ride.”

“Your godfather’s the principal at Illyria,” Steph points out. “You would’ve received a free ride too-”

“-but they only have a boy’s team.” She flops facedown again, growling. “Ugh. Uncle Matt says I play just as well as any of the boys on that team, and they won Nationals last year. Why can’t I just play on that team? BU will probably still let me in. Hell, they’d probably be impressed because I was...playing with guys…”

Steph shoves at her shoulder now, fully excited. “Jack! Are you thinking what I’m thinking? What if there’s nothing against the rules about a girl playing for the team at Illyria? You could keep a full scholarship and still play hockey!”

Jack’s already fumbling for her phone. “That sounds fucking crazy, but it just might work.”

 

“No,” Uncle Matt says flatly after she’s explained the whole thing. His voice is tinny and his face is a little distorted over the Facetime connection. “You are my goddaughter, Jack, and I love you like my own but it would never work.”

“You’re the one who just told me there’s no explicit rule in the handbook about women playing!” she argues back.

“I did, but there’s also a such thing as precedent!” He shakes his head. “Coach Q would never even let me through the door with you at my side, even if I somehow managed to skywrite those rules over the school.” Even he sounds disappointed with the whole situation, which gives Jack some hope that she can still get him to agree. “Jack, honey, I know you’re disappointed, but I’m sure BU will still want you.”

She chews her lip for a moment, her eyes catching on her copy of _Twelfth Night_ and huh. This could either be the best idea she’s ever had in her life, or the worst one. “But what if you don’t show up with me. Well, me-me.”

Both Steph and Uncle Matt are looking at her like she’s suddenly speaking in tongues. “What?” Steph sputters.

“Give me a month or two with the team, disguised as a boy,” Jack bursts out. “You said it yourself, Uncle Matt, I’m just as good as any of them. Let me prove it and when that time is up we’ll tell them what’s been going on. They’d _have_ to keep me.”

Aunt Alicia pops into the screen over Uncle Matt’s shoulder. “It would be an interesting social experiment,” she comments.

Uncle Matt groans and drops his face into one hand. “Alicia, this is insanity-”

“And your goddaughter needs to play hockey! You would never forgive yourself if she lost BU over this.”

“No one at Illyria knows Jack but me, so no one would even know she’s not who she’s supposed to be, Principal Moulson!” Steph jumps in.

Jack sees the exact moment he caves. His other hand comes up to his face and the phone goes clattering to the desk, over the sound of Aunt Alicia’s scolding. “You realize this is the kind of thing that could get me fired, right?” he asks.

“Darling, this is why I’m on the Board of Directors. I won’t let them fire you.” Aunt Alicia’s face appears onscreen. “Okay, Jack. Looks like we’re turning you into a boy.”

“We’re not telling her parents about this,” Uncle Matt grumbles over their cheers.

 

Jack never thought that she would ever be grateful for the way that hockey engenders certain...attitudes, but it certainly leaves her fairly immune as she makes her way through the hallways of the boy’s dormitory at Illyria. Sure, she’s been on a girl’s team her entire life and went to an all-girl’s school, but all this noise and chaos really isn’t that different. She barely blinks as doors slam around her and a soccer ball whizzes by her nose.

And no one even looks at her twice.

Turns out turning her into a boy wasn’t that difficult. She hit six foot flat when she was fourteen, and has been building hockey muscle ever since. Her boobs are nonexistent and her bone structure is sharp enough to pass, so all they did was cut her hair and shove her into boy’s clothes.

Cutting her hair sucked, to be honest. Yes, it’s blonde and frizzy and untameable, but she liked having it long. Steph assured her that there would be ways to style it to make it more feminine, but she has her doubts.

“Just one of the guys,” she mutters to herself, and lets herself into her assigned room.

There’s a guy reading on one of the twin beds and he unfolds himself easily as she comes into the room. “Hey, you must be the new guy. I’m Noah, your roommate.”

Noah’s got two inches on Jack and is probably the prettiest guy she’s ever seen, and no, that’s not just the years of girl’s school talking. His handshake is firm, though, and his smile is friendly.

“Jack.”

His eyes alight on her gear bag, perking up as he takes in all the Bruins patches. “You play hockey?”

“I do. Hoping I can play it here, too.” Her hands are feeling a bit twitchy, so she drops her bags and hauls her duffel to the dresser closest to the unclaimed bed. “This mine?”

“Yeah, and the closet is over here for blazers and stuff.” Noah flops back onto his bed and looks at her interestedly. “What do you play?”

“Center. You?”

“D man.” He grins. “Good thing I’m not your competition.”

Her competition, it turns out, is Connor McDavid. He’s tall but lanky, and is without a doubt one of the best centers she’s ever seen. Fast, she thinks, watching him on the ice during drills. Good hands, good skating. And when they switch to scrimmage, well. His playmaking ability is even better and he has a sixth sense for where his linemates are.

Good thing Jack is better. Everything inside her settles and quiets when she steps onto the ice. This is where she belongs and nothing, not even the loss of her team, is going to keep her from playing hockey.

Connor blinks at her when she goes up against him for the faceoff. “You’re new.”

Is this guy for real? “ _Excellent_ observation,” she drawls and he flushes. The puck drops and Jack uses his embarrassment, batting the puck away and they’re off.

Jack’s biggest advantages are her speed and her power, and she shows them off to her best advantage. She’s up the ice in a flash, easily splits the D, sets up the goal for her winger, some dude named Lawson, and is there to catch his rebound.

Noah skates up to her, whooping. “Eichs! Where the hell did you learn to play hockey like that?”

“Around,” she laughs, feeling good.

Connor smiles tentatively at her as they all skate back to the bench. “That was really good.” His smile stretches a little wider, becomes a bit more genuine. “I’ll get you back for it.”

“You can try.”

Apparently the kid thrives on competition, because his eyes light up and just like that, it’s _on_. The speed of the game isn’t anything new to Jack - if anything, the women are just that bit faster. The physicality isn’t that much of a problem either, because women’s games are definitely physical, and her bigger bulk seems to have been made for making hits. The first time she truly hits someone she’s surprised by how far he flies. Still, hitting is not second nature to her and she doesn’t intend for it to become so. Crash and bang just isn’t her thing.

No, it’s the style of play. She’s frankly amazed at how players are just as likely to dump the puck when they could carry it over the line; it just seems like a good way to lose the puck. Second, and most confusing, is how often the action turns over after just one shot attempt. It’s second nature for her to dig in right there in and around the crease, just waiting for one more opportunity to get the goal.

“Not bad,” Connor remarks as they finish the drill. He has this smile on his face, something half-smirky and half approving that kind of makes her want to smack him. Which would probably not be the best way to get on this team’s good side, but whatever.

“Shhh,” she says, smirking back and shoving his shoulder just a little. “I’m trying to keep my sheer talent under wraps here.”

That provokes a surprised laugh that transforms that solemn face of his and Jack skates away to where Noah’s hanging out by the boards.

He smacks her shins with his stick. “Bonding with the top line there, eh?”

She blushes, but when she glances over at the bench Coach Q offers an approving nod. It has to mean something, she figures, and feels like maybe playing for the boys isn’t as farfetched as she’d thought.

 

At dinner that night, Jack pauses after gathering her food and wonders just where in the hell she’s going to sit. Sure, she could go and sit with Steph, but that might seem a little weird, all things considered-

“Eichs! Over here!” One of the guys from tryouts - Mitch? - is waving frantically at her. The table is full of guys from tryouts, including Noah and Connor.

Well. Decision made. And if everything goes according to plan, these are the guys she’s going to be playing hockey with for the rest of the year, so she might as well socialize now. “Thanks,” she says, sliding in next to Connor.

“So, you too good to shower with us plebes?” Mitch asks, eyeing her.

Noah smacks the back of his head. “Rude, Marns.” But everyone is looking at her expectantly, so it’s not like she’s getting out of the question.

“My shrink doesn’t think it’s a good idea. It’s not a big deal, but I need to shower by myself.” Jack’s never been more grateful for her poker face, or the fact that Aunt Alicia nixed the idea of a skin disease. This way, they can come up with their own explanations and it gets her out of using the communal shower after practice. It should also hopefully stop any hazing that might expose her.

Sure enough, all the guys look vaguely uncomfortable, Connor and Noah seem visibly upset and Mitch jerks, like someone’s kicked him. Huh. She was not expecting this level of sensitivity from teenage hockey players. “I said it’s no big deal,” she says lightly, and starts shoveling her food down the way she’s seen guys do, which honestly just seems like a good way to get an upset stomach. She slows down and changes the subject. “So, since I know pretty much nothing about the hockey around here, who do we hate?”

“The Spartans - Laconia High,” Lawson says immediately. There are a few nods and choruses of agreement.

“Why?”

“They’re assholes. They play dirty hockey,” Noah explains.

“Davo broke his hand fighting one of them last year,” Mitch pipes up.

Jack’s eyebrows go up as she glances at Connor, who goes dull red. She hadn’t really pegged him for the fighting type. More like the ‘can’t we all just get along’ type. “I lost my temper,” he murmurs.

She snorts. “Okay, Bruce Banner.”

The table erupts in hysterics.

“Davo’s the Hulk!”

“Can we dress as the Avengers for Halloween?”

Honestly, boys. Jack rolls her eyes and turns back to her food. A hand lands on her shoulder and the hysterics die down. “Hey, Jack.”

She cranes her neck around and Steph is grinning down at her. “Hey Steph.”

“Glad to see you’re fitting in,” she says with amusement. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yep, see you.” This time, when Jack turns back to her food, the guys are staring at her with wide eyes.

“How do you know Steph Jones???”

 

“You didn’t tell me the hockey team thinks you’re the shit,” Jack murmurs under her breath as she drops into the desk next to Steph’s the following morning.

Steph’s brow furrows for a moment, then she laughs. “Oh, you know why? There was a hockey clinic during Spirit Week last year and I was pretty much the only girl who knew what she was doing. That’s it, really.”

“See, you should have stuck with hockey. Then you would’ve been right beside me.”

She shakes her pencil at Jack. “And be doing the exact same thing you’re doing right now? No, thank you. Face it, Jack, I’d make a horrible guy.”

This is true. Steph actually _has_ curves. “Still would be good to have you with me.”

Steph nudges her. “Duh. But honestly Jack, you’ll be fine. The day you don’t have something together is the day the sky starts falling.”

“Please don’t jinx me,” she grumbles, flipping her notebook open. “You’re still amazing at math, right? Because I need help with it.” Stats are one thing, but calculus? No thanks.

“Sure thing, so long as you go over my English essays.”

English has always been her favorite subject. She can argue about symbolism and motifs for _days_. “Done.”

Connor is her assigned lab partner in AP Biology, and Jack takes one look at the dissection list before turning to him. “Frog is fine, fetal pig is fine, but I’m not touching the snake or going near it,” she announces.

He grins at her. “Not a fan of snakes?”

“Snakes are wild animals. I hate animals like that. I’m not doing it.” She still hasn’t forgiven her sister for tricking her on an Everglades tour the last time their family vacationed in Florida. She could’ve been eaten by a gator, for crying out loud.

To Jack’s endless surprise, Connor just shrugs and accepts the explanation. “Don’t worry Eichs. It won’t be a problem.” He looks at her thoughtfully. “Somehow, I didn’t think you’d ever confess something like that.”

“Judging me already, McDavid?” she drawls, narrowing her eyes a little. It’s not like she cares what he thinks about her, but they’ve had maybe one conversation since yesterday.

“No! It’s just you seem...tough.”

She snorts. “I am tough. Doesn’t mean I can’t be afraid of snakes.”

Connor rubs a hand over his eyes and honestly, this is the guy she’s going to be pushing against the entire year? Jack is not impressed. “I’m not going to win this conversation, am I?”

“Nope. I like to win.”

There it is again, that flare of challenge. “Huh. Me too.”

Jack’s good mood fades a little bit when the roster goes up after lunch. She’s made the team, she’s even on the top line - but as Connor’s winger.

Noah claps her on the shoulder as she stares at the list. “Damn Eichs, you should be proud of yourself. Not a lot of people can try out for this team and make it all the way to the top.”

“I’m a center though,” she mutters, glancing over to where Connor is leaning against his locker with Dylan and Mitch. Connor catches her looking and smiles brightly, but she just offers a terse nod in return.

He follows her gaze and nods. “Yeah, but Coach Q is always mixing it up. You’ll have your shot.”

She just turns back to the list and hums a little bit. It looks like she’ll really have to show them.

Mother Nature, of course decides to throw a wrench in things. Two days later, Jack wakes up with cramps and some staining in her underwear. Cursing her lot in life, she heads straight for the bathroom with all her stuff bundled in her arms. When she gets back, Noah’s awake, knuckling the sleep out of his eyes. “Hey,” he yawns. “Wait for me?”

“Yeah.” Jack frowns down at her khaki pants, thinking that she’s going to have to be extra vigilant about leakage.

Noah stops in the doorway. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

“I’ll be fine.” It’s the truth - she took some Midol while she was in the bathroom. For her, the cramps are always on the first day, and slowly peter out into nothing.

“You sure? Because the nurse-”

“Hanny, really, it’s fine.” Jack feels bad about lying to Noah, she really does. He’s funny and easygoing, and he loves Boston too. He’s probably her first real friend here, but it’s not like she can tell him she’s suffering from bodily functions that are decidedly not biologically male.

The next morning, she wakes up to Noah shaking her and saying her name over and over in a panicked voice. “Jack! Jack! Are you okay? Fucking hell, you’re not okay, we need to get you to the nurse _now._ ”

Jack’s decidedly not a morning person, so it takes her a while to get with the program. “What?” she asks sleepily.

“Fuck, Jack, you’re bleeding _down there,_ come on, come on!” He manages to get an arm around her and get her standing before she glances down and realizes she’s kicked off her blankets in the night. His words register and she glances down at the bed - no stain - but when she cranes her head around to look at her ass-

Welp. Stain city.

Damn it. She can’t even keep her secret for a week. “I’m not dying, Hanny,”

“What do you mean, you’re not dying? You’re _bleeding_ , Jack-” Noah’s voice rises in pitch and he looked absolutely terrified. Jack quickly pins him against the wall, slamming a hand over his mouth.

“Shut _up_ ,” she hisses. “You’d better not tell anyone this, just…” Jack sighs. “I’m not dying because I’m a girl and I’m on my period, okay? It’s a perfectly normal, if annoying, bodily function.” His eyes are wide as he stares back at her. “Now, please don’t scream when I step back.”

Noah’s mouth opens and closes a few times as she steps away. He scans her once, twice. “You’re a girl.”

“Yup.”

“When you say girl...do you mean, like, a transgender girl? Like Caitlyn Jenner?”

There’s no judgment in his voice, just curiosity. Again, these high school boys surprise her. “No. I’m a girl and I’d like to stay a girl. I just came here to play hockey.”

Now that she's clearly not in peril, he calms down. “But why? There are plenty of girls teams.”

Jack moves to sit down, then remembers why they’re having this conversation in the first place. “I’ll explain everything just...let me clean up first?”

He goes scarlet. “Right. Yeah. Okay. I’ll just…”

She rolls her eyes and feels some of the tension leak out of her. “Jesus Hanny, calm down. You’re a hockey player, you’ve seen blood before.”

The chirping works - he scowls and she just laughs as she sails out of their room, slinging a robe over her pajamas.

On their way to breakfast she tells him everything - about Cornwall cutting their team, about needing a scholarship, and of course about hatching the entire plan. “I just need to prove to Coach Q that I can do it, then maybe he’ll let me stay.”

“Well, just keep doing what you’re doing and he will,” he muses.

“You can’t treat me any differently, okay? Like, if the guys say anything in the locker room or if someone’s not pulling their hits on me when I’m on the ice. I can’t have anyone else finding out.”

He’s already shaking his head. “Maybe it’d be different if I haven’t seen you play, but...okay. I can’t guarantee anything about keeping back if someone goes after you. But I’d do that for any of my teammates.”

“Just keep doing it,” Jack says. Clearly she hit the roommate jackpot with Noah.

“Make sure you keep your eyes up though, huh?” His eyebrows wiggle at her.

“Oh please, like there’s anything to see,” she scoffs,

“See where?” Steph asks as Jack plops into the seat behind her.

“In the locker room,” she replies with a smug smile, laughing as Noah makes a horrified face.

 

The whistle blows and Jack slides to a halt, staring up at the ceiling and swearing under her breath.

“Eichel!” Coach Q shouts. “I know you’re adjusting to being a winger now but can we please finish the play? Just once?” He doesn’t even wait for her response, just blows on the whistle one more time. “Let’s run it again!”

She skates back towards the red line, scowling when Connor falls in line with her. “Look, Eichs,” he begins.

“I got it, McDavid, all right?” Jack snaps. It hasn’t escaped her notice that Connor does every drill perfectly every single time. The past few practices have shown her that he’s the star of the team while she...she’s still trying to find her place. “I won’t fuck it up this time.”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” He puts a glove on her shoulder and she just barely resists the urge to shrug it off. “I know that making the play is second nature to you, all right? Just...trust me to set you up, okay? You don’t have to do everything.”

That there is half the problem. Jack’s used to doing everything, because she has the speed and the skill to place her almost anywhere she needs to be. Playing with the boys is an unpleasant surprise because some of them have the build and height to accelerate as fast as she can.

She’s about to swear at him again when movement in the stands catches in her peripheral vision and it’s Uncle Matt, settling into the bleachers to watch them play. And fuck, she can’t let him down. No matter what Aunt Alicia says, he really is putting his back on the line her to let her play and she cannot screw it up because she’s jealous of Connor McDavid.

It’s just… difficult. Not only because she’s a natural centre but because she’s a _good_ natural centre. Trusting him to make the play, trusting him to get her the puck… she has no reason to do so. No reason to trust blindly when the style of play they prefer is not one she likes. Nothing, except for that man, up there in the bleachers, that believes in her enough to do this. “Fine,” she says on a heavy exhale. In for a penny... “Let’s run this.”

This time, the drill goes perfectly. Mitch dumps the puck in their offensive zone (and doesn’t that make Jack wince) and Connor flies in to retrieve the puck in the corner from the defenseman. Mitch goes in on the short side, while Jack covers any passing lanes in the upper edge of the zone. Her speed and her bulk make her the better choice should the play start going in the opposite direction.

Connor bats the puck free and she moves into the high slot position, rather than in as all her instincts are screaming at her to do. She’s not used to being this far away from the play when they’re on the offensive but she stays where she is. Mitch goes in for the shot, which is easily blocked but then Connor is there for the rebound and slides it in, easy peasy.

“That’s how you do it!” Coach Q barks. “Keep it up! Now, defensive drills!”

“Attaboy, Eichs,” Mitch laughs, coming over with his glove raised. “Knew you’d come around.”

Jack snorts and taps her glove against his helmet, tamping down on the frustration and strange pride of watching Connor make a hell of a play. “Whatever, Marns.”

 

The first home game for Illyria is an absolute zoo. The stands are already mostly filled, a sea of red and white, when the team steps out for warmups and Jack’s jaw nearly drops. They never had this much attention back at Cornwall and she honestly can’t help the resentment that rises up in her throat. It’s not like women’s hockey is any less exciting or less valid or anything, so why do the boys get all of this?

Fuck. Sometimes she misses Cornwall and her girls so much she can barely breathe. The guys are starting to grow on her (and god, what would she do without Noah, who has acted as her shield in the locker room more than once), but there are only so many similarities between how she acts with them in the locker room and on the ice and how she was with her old team.

For one thing, she’s really, really tired of heavy metal music.

Noah skates up to her and nudges her shoulder. “You ready for this game, Eichs?” he asks in a low voice. “We can probably still come up with something to take you out.”

“Oh hell no,” she responds. “Are you kidding me? It’s time for me to prove myself and I absolutely fucking will.”

He grins. “Attagirl.”

Mitch comes up on her other side. “Dude. Eichs. What the hell.”

Panic rises in her because fuck, if Mitch heard that she is going to kill Noah dead. “What, Marns?”

He gestures towards the glass, scowling like he’s deeply offended. “It’s your first fucking game, how do you already have a fanbase?”

Jack looks and, oh. It’s Steph and some of the Cornwall girls. There was no way Jack could keep this from them and she knows they would never tell. In any case, they’re there and they all have signs, from _GO JACK!_ to _#15 Is My Bae_ , courtesy of Alex.

Noah has a shit-eating grin on his face. “Jealous, Marns? Looks like Eichs has better game than you.”

“Like hell he does!” Mitch looks incredibly indignant, and Jack can’t help it. She’s a shit-stirrer. She skates over to where the girls are congregated, bangs her glove against the glass, and tosses a puck up with a cocky wink. The girls play up the swooning, making exaggerated adoring faces and Jack has to duck her head to hide her smile. Steph even blows her a kiss as she skates away, and Jack literally bites her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Dude,” Dylan says, impressed. “Teach me.”

Connor skates up to them, his brow furrowed. “Come on guys, warm-ups?”

“Davo, aren’t you the least bit jealous that Eichs here is stealing from your fanclub?” Mitch pipes up.

Connor, interestingly enough, flushes. “You guys know I’m not...that’s just…”

Now that’s intriguing. Jack’s seen enough of these boys to know that he should probably be preening over that kind of thing. “Having girl troubles, Davo?” she asks, grinning sharply. “I got a lifetime of knowledge.”

Noah guffaws and gets Jack in a headlock while Connor splutters and Dylan howls. “Come on, let’s do as the captain says and do warm-ups. You’ve got an A, don’t be a bad example.”

And that’s just surreal. Jack knows that Connor was a surefire pick for the C, but she never expected that as the new guy, they’d give her an A. Turns out that when she’s not being a stubborn ass about not playing center, she’s pretty good with the team.

Jack doesn’t get jittery before games. Instead, it feels like everything settles and goes cool, still, and silent inside of her. It all narrows down, all the noise and lights, until there’s nothing but her team and the puck.

She slides her helmet onto her head after the national anthem, catching Connor’s eye as she adjusts her chinstrap.

Perhaps it shouldn’t be a surprise, but she can see that same sort of calm, tempered with fierce focus and excitement, reflected in his eyes. Somehow he sees it too, because he grins and sidles towards her. “Ready to go, Eichs?”

“Get me the puck, Davo,” she replies, and smirks. “Think you can handle that?”

“Pretty sure I can,” he responds, a little bit cocky and very, very confident, then drifts towards the face-off circle.

He delivers halfway through the first period, sliding the puck back to her as they streak into the offensive zone. Jack has the speed, does the toe drag, and positions the puck between her feet to keep it away from the defenseman shadowing her. From there she shoots it up and over the goalie’s blocker and into the net.

Her first instinct when the goal light goes off is to turn towards the girls and sure enough, they’re going fucking nuts-

-but then Connor slams into her, bellowing into her ear. “EICHS! WHAT A GOAL, EICHS!” He’s grinning like a doofus, his eyes sparkling like her goal is the best thing he’s ever seen.

She laughs and knocks her helmet against his. “Thanks for the assist, bud.”

“I said I’d get the puck to you, didn’t I?” he laughs as they skate back to the bench. “But seriously, that toe drag-”

He doesn’t shut up about it as they sit down, to the point where Noah leans forward and wiggles his eyebrows at her and seriously, _what the fuck._ He’s really not doing a good job of pretending like there isn’t something hinky going on here. Honestly, if he does end up giving her away she’s going to kill him, friend or no.

“Okay, Davo,” she says when Coach Q taps them on the shoulder for their next shift. “You want it to happen again, then let’s make it happen again, huh?”

His eyes shine as they hop over the bench and well, it’s hard not to be that excited too. It’s _hockey._ “Let’s do it, Eichs.”

It’s amazing, how quickly she’s getting used to having him and Mitch at her side on the ice or on the bench. The first few weeks she’d kept looking around, expecting to see one of her Cornwall girls and feeling so homesick for them it was like a punch to the gut.

But now she’s getting used to the rhythm of Illyria, of Coach Q’s gruff but fair style and even her ridiculous teammates.

It’s becoming more than just continuing to play hockey. Jack wants to keep playing hockey with _this_ team. Now, more than ever, she has to prove her worth so that when the truth comes out, they’ll let her stay.

 

The amount of attention Jack gets from other girls after that first game is kind of...disconcerting. There are a few long looks, more than a few, “Hi Jack”s, and at least two blatant attempts at flirting in the lunch line.

“What the hell is going on?” she hisses during a lull in English. “The girls are _noticing_ me. As a _guy_.”

Steph winces. “That might be our fault,” she admits somewhat sheepishly. “We were a pretty diehard cheering section for you during the game. There was a lot of talking about how great you are. I guess some people took notice. You did have a really good game.”

Jack groans and puts her head in her hands. “Steph, you know I can’t do that part of acting like a guy, right? Maybe if I liked girls that way, but I don’t.”

“Jack, it’s not that difficult. Most of them will back off if we spread a rumor about you being super seriously into hockey, and it’s not that much of a stretch. Besides, you being a guy is only temporary.”

“Yeah, fine, that takes care of the girls,” she admits. “But the guys have been asking me for girl advice - which is actually not bad, I’ve set them straight on some things - but now they think I have game and it’s just…” On one hand, it’s doing a hell of a lot to solidify the fact that she’s a guy in their heads. On the other hand, she has to deal with girls having crushes on her.

Steph laughs. “Look, the guys thinking you have game is the farthest thing from a problem. If you need to give them a show, let me know and we’ll give them a show.”

She lifts her face from her hands. “I really don’t like the sound of that.”

“Don’t worry when it's not even a problem. Anyway, you'll be in skirts and heels soon enough.”

Jack’s scowl is automatic, as is the way her volume spirals up.  “Heels. _Heels._ Heels are a male invention designed to make a woman’s butt look smaller. And to make it harder for them to run away.”

“ _What?_ ” Dylan squawks from behind her.

“Like you’ve never worn heels,” she scoffs and hopes that’s as far as this is going to go. God, she has to watch herself.

Mitch nods sagely and Jack is remarkably unsurprised he’s done it. “It’s hard, bro.”

She reaches out, fist at the ready. “Exactly.”

Mitch bumps it in solidarity before they all burst into laughter.

 

Noah, of course, thinks all the attention is absolutely _hilarious_. “Stop laughing about it, asshole,” Jack grouses later. He’d flopped straight onto her bed, and thus, on top of her, once they got back to their room. Two hockey players is probably a stretch for the twin bed, but neither of them are particularly inclined to move.

“I just…” he wipes a tear from his eye. “Do you know how many guys would kill to be in your position now? I’m pretty sure Marns hates you a little.” Jack contemplates telling him about her suspicions about Mitch and Dylan, then decides not to. “I mean, if only because you’ve become popular almost overnight. Davo’s probably grateful, he never liked the attention.”

“And what about you? Missing your fanclub?”

He just grins smugly. “Eichs, I’m too pretty for you to take away from my fanclub.”

She has to concede that point. She might be an actual girl, but Noah looks like some teenage GQ model or something. “Still,” she grumbles. “I didn’t think I’d have to deal with this aspect of being a guy…”

“Didn’t you come from an all-girls’ school?”

Jack punches him. “Yeah, and? Just because it’s an all-girls’ school doesn’t mean we talk about guys all the time, for fuck’s sake.”

“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry,” he chuckles. “As you’ve noticed, we can’t seem to shut up about girls.”

She makes a face. “Hard not to.” Most of the locker room talk has been surprisingly tame, and in the few instances where she’s had to snap out variations of, “Rude, man, have some respect,” Connor and Noah have been there to back her up. The first time she’d thanked him for that, he just snorted at her.

“I have sisters, Eichs, but I don’t need to have sisters to treat women as human beings.” He’d then laughed at her astonished face, wrapped an arm around her neck, and dragged her to the cafeteria.

Noah’s a good egg. The best one, actually, and she’s so grateful that out of all the guys at Illyria, he’s the one who knows her secret. She grins and snuggles against him.

He yelps, flails, and falls off the bed. “Jack, whoa. I really like you and you’re becoming one of my best friends, but I don’t-”

She nearly hurts herself laughing. “God, no Hanny,” she manages to get out between gasps, collapsing again at the way he’s scowling at her from the floor. “You’re hot like the sun, don’t get me wrong, but you’re definitely my bro. Now get back up here and cuddle with me.”

He’s pouting now, but complies.

They win the next game, but lose the one after that. The loss against the Trojans is frustrating as hell because the game had been so close, the other team getting ahead with a dirty goal in the last few seconds.

Still, she can’t feel too bad, because she’s put up points in all three games.

A lot of it is thanks to Connor. He’s one of the best playmakers she’s ever seen, and something just happens when they set foot on the ice together. The knowledge hangs between them that if she’s open, he’s somehow going to find a way to get the puck on her tape. And they do it, again and again.

It’s absolutely bewildering. She doesn’t want to like the guy, but he plays fucking amazing hockey and what’s more, they play fucking amazing hockey _together_.

Lawson’s snickering pulls her back to the present. “Strike out again, Marns?”

Mitch glowers and plops down into his seat. “Shut up, Crouser. Not everyone has a steady girlfriend they can rely on.”

Jack just shakes her head, concentrating on her pizza as he continues to whine about just wanting some companionship, especially after that loss.

“I mean, what about you, Eichs?”

She glances up. “What?”

“You have that entire fanclub, and you’ve never picked up.” He stares her down. “What happened to that ‘lifetime of knowledge?’”

Her stomach dips a little bit as some of the other guys chorus in agreement, though Noah is quick to jump to her defense. “Dude. You never give me that kind of shit about my fanclub, maybe you should lay off Eichs, eh?”

“No, I think we should see this,” Dylan insists. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “And there’s the perfect chance. Cornwall girls.”

The table explodes. “Dude, Eichs, I will _pay_ you if you actually manage to pick one of them up,” Mitch says. “I heard Carpenter over there turned Domi down _flat_.”

Jack nearly cries with relief. Those aren’t just any Cornwall girls. They’re some of her hockey girls: Alex, Rigs, Shelby, and Shiann. She’s going to owe them big time.

“Guys, Jack shouldn’t have to-” Connor begins.

Jack shakes her head. “Nah, I got this. Watch and learn, boys.” She hops out of the booth and adjusts her swagger purely for their benefit, and then leans against the girls’ table. “Hey guys,” she says, talking around her smile. “The guys are being idiots so can you please play along and pretend that I’m picking you up?”

Alex bursts into laughter, and it’s a good thing her back is to the boys. “Are you serious, Jack?”

“Like I said, they’re being idiots. I’m not saying giggle and twirl your hair, I’m just saying look into me and shit.” Her face is starting to go a little blotchy. They won’t screw her over, but hockey players, regardless of gender, are complete shits.

“Aw, the things we do for you, Jack,” Shiann teases, leaning forward and putting her chin on her hand, like whatever Jack’s said is really interesting. “I mean, haven’t we already been to see your games?”

“It was only one game, and that was to get the Illyria girls riled up.” Rigs’ eyes glimmer with amusement. “Would you set me up with the pretty one? The d-man?”

That’s...not surprising in the least. Jack grins. “He’s my roommate. I could put in a good word for you.”

“And you haven’t jumped him yet? What’s wrong with you?” Rigs beams. “Hand me your phone. I’ll pretend to put my number in it.” Shelby and Shiann do too, while Alex just shakes her head.

Jaws are hanging when she returns to the table and she smirks, wiggling her phone in the air. “It’s simple, guys. Talk to them like they’re people, not pieces of meat you’re panting over. You’d be amazed what happens.”

Noah laughs and slings an arm around her shoulder. “I could have told you that.”

Jack smirks. “See? Noah gets this. Which is good, because see the blond one there? Name’s Alex too. She wants your number.”

“That’s not fair!” Mitch bursts out as Jack types Rigs’ number into Noah’s phone and the whole table descends into chaos.

Jack breathes a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.

 

Jack takes advantage of one of the long weekends to just _be_ a girl. She persuades Alex to go with her for pedicures in exchange for accompanying her to the beach for a pickup game of volleyball with Steph and some of the other Illyria girls.

“Do you really miss being a girl this much?” Alex asks curiously.

Jack wiggles her freshly painted toes against the dashboard. “I don’t know, maybe? It’s not like I act that differently, or that their clothes are more comfortable. At Illyria, I’m only 100% me when I’m on the ice or in my room. It’s nice to be 100% me right now.”

Alex is quiet for a moment, then cracks a grin. “That’s deep, Eichs.”

“Fuck off.”

“Seriously though,” she insists, pulling into the parking lot. “How much longer can you pretend to be a guy? When do you get to be just...you again?”

Jack slumps down in the seat and sighs, shoving her feet back into her flipflops. While she doesn’t mind Jack the boy, she really does miss Jack the girl, too. But Jack the girl is miserable without hockey and damn, she really likes playing at Illyria. “Not that much longer. A few more games, maybe, just to show Coach I really know my stuff.”

“You need to pick a deadline,” Alex says as they stroll down the bluff. “Because this can’t go on much longer.”

She considers. “The Laconia game? They’re Illyria’s toughest rivals, so if I make it through that game, then I sure as hell can make it through the season.” It might have been a rough start, but she knows what she’s doing now, has an idea of how she’s starting to fit into the team, including how she fits on a line with Connor. In hindsight, it was stupid and petty to fight against him as much as she did. Jack knows it’s one of her more glaring personality flaws, but she thinks the line, and specifically she and Connor, have come far.

Alex nods. “Laconia game it is.” She squints. “Hey, aren’t those some of your guys?”

“What are you talking about?” Steph and Michaela are there, of course, with a smattering of the other Illyria basketball and soccer girls. But just beyond them, congregated loosely on the other side of the volleyball net, are a mixture of Illyria basketball, soccer, and hockey guys.

Including Noah, Lawson, Dylan, Mitch, and Connor.

“Oh, _hell no_ ,” Jack says vehemently, wheeling around, only for Alex to step in her path. “Alex. You and I both know I’d beat you in a fight. I can’t be there with them as-”

“Girl Jack?” Alex interrupts, raising an eyebrow. “Actually, I’m pretty sure you can, and you should. After all, Girl Jack is the one that’s supposed to be playing with them for the rest of the year, right? You might as well see what that’s like now.”

“But they’ll recognize-”

“They’ll only see what they want to see. Besides, you’re wearing a bandana and those stupid giant sunglasses.” She nudges at Jack’s shoulder, coaxing her forward. “Come on, you know I’m right.”

“I hate you so much,” she grumbles, but acquiesces.

Steph catches sight of them and grins, lobbing the volleyball in Jack’s direction. “Hey, it’s about time you Cornwall girls showed up! Everybody, this is Alex and this is Jackie. Let’s play some volleyball, huh?”

Noah does a complete double-take when he spots Jack, but grins when she takes her place opposite him. “Noah,” he says, offering his hand from beneath the net. “Nice to meet you.”

Jack can’t help herself - she allows herself a good, long look because what human can resist a shirtless Noah? “Jackie.”

Connor and Steph do rock-paper-scissors to see who serves first. Steph loses with a loud, exaggerated groan and Jack tosses the volleyball over to Connor, who nods awkwardly at her in thanks and well, at least she can tell that he’s going to be just as awkward no matter her sex.

The game is, of course, stupidly competitive because they’re all athletes, and it doesn’t take long for the chirps to start sailing back and forth. “Nice dive,” Jack tosses towards Noah, who faceplants after trying to catch one of her spikes. He gives her the finger.

“Weaaaaaaaak,” Michaela drawls when Mitch serves the ball right into the net.

Mitch puffs his chest up. “I’ll show you weak,” he begins.

“Not with those skinny-ass biceps,” Dylan mutters, which earns him a punch from Mitch while everyone laughs.

“Non-beauty.”

“Dude, Latts has bigger biceps than you.”

Jack strips her shirt off and tosses it to the side, leaving her in a bikini top and her cutoffs. Someone on the boys’ side whistles, earning killer glares from the girls’ side and hairy eyeballs from Noah and Connor. Steph turns around and nods quickly at Jack, who grins.

Alex serves and Connor bumps it back over to their side. Steph sets the ball and the boys fan to the sides, expecting the spike to come from Michaela. What they don’t expect is for Steph to get out of the way and for Jack to come forward from the back and spike it straight to the center. Lawson and Mitch both dive for it, but completely miss and get a faceful of sand. The girls cheer and high five.

“That’s why you don’t mess with Jackie,” Steph says smugly. “And she plays hockey, so she knows how to kick your ass.”

Connor perks up, because of course he does. “You play hockey?” he asks Jack eagerly. Both Dylan and Mitch make hilarious faces behind him, and Noah hides a grin behind his hand.

“Yeah. Me and Alex.”

So Jack’s not really surprised when after five sets (the girls win 3-2, naturally), he wanders over to her, two Gatorades in hand, while some of the others go to negotiate setting up the bonfire. He offers both of them, one blue and one purple, and she automatically takes blue because that’s her favorite. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He digs a toe in the sand. “So what position do you play?”

“Center. Or I did,” she says bitterly, because it still sucks that Cornwall cut the program.

He winces and rubs the back of his neck. “I heard about that. I’m sorry.”

She shrugs, takes a swig from the bottle. “Not your fault. It just sucks because I know I have a legit offer from BU and I don’t know how interested they’re still going to be when I’m not playing.” And wow, thanks mouth for running away.

Connor just nods. “I’d go crazy without hockey.”

Her lips twist wryly. “Luckily, that never seems to be a problem with boys.”

Now he looks like she’s kicked his puppy. “Sorry, that was insensitive.”

Noah, who’s standing nearby with Steph and fiddling with iPod speakers, sends her a sharp look. Jack exhales and looks up. “Nah, I’m just being a bitch. Well, I’m a bitch in general, but I’m especially bitter right now. Like I said, not your fault.”

“I broke my hand last year in a fight,” he offers. The tightness in his shoulders is gone, his movements a little looser. “I was out for a few weeks, so I kind of know what you mean, at least. The guys say I was pretty pathetic.”

“I’ll bet.” She plops down to the sand and pats the patch beside her, wondering what the hell she’s doing. Sure, if things end up with how they’re going right now, she’s going to be the girl who plays on Connor McDavid’s wing, but that doesn’t mean they have to be best buddies. Especially if she’s still gunning for a center position of her own. “Steph tells me you’re the shit on that hockey team of yours.”

Connor goes beet red and honestly, it’s kind of endearing. Not that she’s going to admit that. “I just uh...I really like hockey,” he mutters, ducking his head. “I play center, too.”

There’s a collective roar of delight from the others as flames leap up from the bonfire and Dylan comes loping up to them, throwing himself on the sand. “Finally,” he breathes out. “What’s up, guys?”

“Stromer, stop cockblocking Davo!” Mitch chirps, rocking up with a plastic bag full of hot dogs and buns. “You know how hard it is for him to talk to girls!”

Connor makes a horrified sound while Dylan waves a hand. “Pot, kettle, Marns.”

Mitch squawks indignantly. “I can talk to girls!”

“Not the way Eichs can,” he laughs and Jack stiffens for a moment, thinking they’ve found her out. “He has game. You don’t. Why didn’t he come out with us anyway?”

Right. They mean boy Jack. Her secret’s still safe, though her cheeks still burn at the memory of what happened at the pizza parlor. The girls are never going to let her live it down.

“Okay, I might not have Eichs’ game - which is seriously unnatural for anyone who’s not a movie star, by the way - but I have better game than Davo!”

Jack sighs. Honestly, _boys_. “Shouldn’t I be the judge of that?” she drawls, stretching her legs out. She catches Connor staring and raises an eyebrow, smirking when his blush deepens.

Now she’s flirting. What is _wrong_ with her? Getting in touch with her actual girl side does not mean he's become any more attractive. He's still obviously a massive dork, ignoring the fact that dork is absolutely her type.

Dylan heaves himself to his feet, snags Mitch’s collar, and drags him off towards the bonfire. “Yes, we will absolutely let you be the judge of it. Later!” Mitch protests loudly the entire time, his arms windmilling.

The silence stretches between them for a moment. Jack settles back and watches Connor curiously. Ball’s in his court, she wants to see what his game is like. If he even has any.

Finally, he coughs uncomfortably, his hands fluttering uselessly. “So, um. Do you like...cheese?”

She _loses_ it, plopping back onto the sand and laughing until her stomach aches. “I...what... _how_ ,” she gasps, wiping at her eyes. This guy cannot be real.

“It got your attention, didn’t it?” His voice is confident, but the whole thing is spoiled by how furiously he’s blushing. “Everyone likes cheese.”

“You did,” she admits, sitting back up. “It’s Gorgonzola, by the way.” With the ice broken so very spectacularly, she asks him the question she’s been dying to ask. “What do you want to do after this? NCAA? NHL?”

He shrugs. “There have been scouts for both. I'm not sure. It seems like such a big decision, you know? I know I have to choose soon, though.”

She feels a quick stab of jealousy because she knows exactly what she would do in his place. Hell, if there was half a chance it would work, she would even try her whole hiding-her-sex thing if it meant playing in the NHL. But she’ll take the NCAA and the CWHL - anything to keep playing hockey. “You gotta do you, man. Pick what feels right.” Jack shrugs and gulps down some more Gatorade. “In the meantime, just keep playing.”

“Yeah,” he muses, smiling a little. “Things are interesting now. We have a new guy on the team, and he’s playing on my line.”

Now that piques her interest. Jack might not care what anyone thinks of her, but this is the best opportunity she has to find out exactly what he thinks about playing with her. “Is he a good linemate?”

Connor’s eyes light up. “He’s amazing!” he gushes. “No one’s faster than Jack, and he has amazing hands-”

It’s a little surreal, listening to him wax poetic about her hockey. Jack has to fight back a blush of her own because as funny as it is to watch him make a fool of himself, it’s kind of endearing. Not that she’ll admit that. But it’s nice to know her skills are appreciated.

“And...sorry.” He laughs sheepishly and fiddles with the bottle. “I just...um...get really excited about good hockey. Dylan says I’m hockey sexual or something.”

“Like that’s a bad thing,” she snorts, which launches them into a conversation about their favorite hockey players and the best plays they’ve ever seen. Noah has to drag them over to the bonfire to eat. Once Connor has his back turned, both Noah and Alex give her significant looks and she emphatically shakes her head because _no._

But then Connor hands her a toasting fork with a hotdog, smiling one of those goofy, shy smiles and oh hell. This might be a problem.

 

Jack’s usually too big and too fast for other players to catch on the ice. This time, however, she doesn’t see the hit coming before she’s plastered to the boards. It really rings her bell and the fighting around her doesn’t really register until she’s on her feet, helped by Coach Q and Dr. Bowman.

Both Noah and Connor’s helmets are off, gloves on the ground, and fighting. Connor’s more furious than Jack’s ever seen him, face flushed and lips pressed into a tight line. And the boy really cannot fight. “Get Davo,” she croaks to Coach Q. “Can’t break his hand again.”

“Just worry about you, all right Jack?” Coach replies, not unkindly. He has John help Dr. Bowman get her back, and he turns and goes right back onto the ice. Hopefully to help break up the fights.

It’s not a concussion, thank god, but Dr. Bowman insists on taking her out of the game, just to be safe. “We’ll see how you are at practice on Monday, okay?”

“But I have to play against Laconia,” she protests.

“And you probably will. We just need to make sure, all right?”

The worst part is that he won’t let her stay and watch the game. Intellectually, she knows that it’s going to be too loud and given what just happened, it’s not the best thing for her head. But she doesn’t want to leave her team and she definitely doesn’t want to just stew in her room.

Dr. Bowman ends up escorting her to her room, giving her a list of precautions before he goes. She does a little homework and dozes. Uncle Matt comes by to check on her.

“Are you sure you want to keep doing this, Jack?” he asks gently.  “When the truth comes out they’re not going to be any easier on you.”

“When have I ever wanted things to be easy?” she scoffs, keeping her eyes focused on the ceiling. “I have to play hockey, Uncle Matt. And I...I really like playing with this team.”

He reaches out and places a comforting hand on her ankle. “I’m glad. And I’m behind you, Jack, one hundred percent. I just want to make sure that it’s your decision and not anyone else’s.”

“Whose would it be? You know Mom and Dad don’t care as long as I’m happy. They never would have agreed to this any other way.” And this plan wouldn’t have had a chance in hell of going on without their agreement, Uncle Matt’s jokes aside. She gets to her elbows and manages a grin. “So. We’ll just keep going and you’ll back me up when it’s time, right?”

Uncle Matt rolls his eyes. “As if there was any doubt.” He pats her ankle. “Get better. But don’t push yourself too hard, all right?”

Jack salutes him and he lets himself out, chuckling. “And do your homework!”

She’s barely a few pages intp _One Hundred Years of Solitude_ when there’s another knock on the door.  “It’s open! Honestly, Uncle Matt, you don’t have to go all-out with the words of wisdom-”

“Uncle Matt?”

And shit, that’s definitely not Uncle Matt, it’s Connor. Her body jerks a little bit on the bed, but at least she doesn’t rocket upwards. “Checking up on me, Davo?” she drawls, maybe a little defensive as she drags herself up to a reclined position. He’s lingering in the doorway, still in the gameday dress uniform, hair obviously still damp from his post-game shower.

“Of course I’m checking up on you,” he protests, like it’s not even a question. And maybe it isn’t. Jack’s seen exactly the kind of captain Connor is, and frankly, she’s impressed. He just exudes competence and quiet confidence, and it’s no wonder the guys turn to him without question.

Jack does too. Because for all that he’s her competition, she respects him. “Not from over there you’re not. Sit down, you look uncomfortable.” His hair is fluffy and sticking up in places, like he’s been running his hands through it.

Rather than pulling over a chair, he settles at the foot of the bed much like Uncle Matt did. “So. Uh...Principal Moulson is your uncle?”

“Godfather.” She considers him for a moment. “We wanted to keep it down in case anyone thought he was pulling strings to put me on the team.”

“That’s dumb,” he says immediately, scowling. “Everyone knows Principal Moulson is really fair. And you’re amazing at hockey, Eichs. You wouldn’t have needed him or anyone to make the team.” He cuts himself off and flushes and hell, so does Jack. She’s never had someone praise her hockey so whole-heartedly, not the way he does. It makes her feel weird.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she says after a long silence. It’s not like she expected him to be an asshole about the whole thing, but she didn’t quite expect him to be so vehement in his reaction. “Did we win?”

“Yeah. It was three on three for a while since Hanny and I were in the box, but then we had a five minute power play because the guy that hit you got two majors. That’s when we got the goal, a really gorgeous tip-in from Dyls.” He looks down and picks at a loose thread in her bedspread, like maybe he’s gone to that embarrassed place, a little self-conscious about how nerdy he gets about hockey. But then he says, “Coach told us it’s day to day, your head.”

Jack blinks for a moment because that’s genuine worry in his voice. She’s not cold-hearted or far enough in denial to miss it. “I’ll be back for the Spartans,” she says, maybe a little softer than she should and has to curl her hands into fists so she doesn’t inexplicably reach for him. “Count on it.”

That actually manages to get a smile out of him. “I will. You’re my liney, Eichs. It wouldn’t feel right without you.”

“Well, duh.” Jack flashes him her cockiest grin even though her stomach is flipping and there’s a weird lump in her throat. “That’s because I’m brilliant.”

Connor’s expression changes so quickly and then he’s coughing, glancing off to the side and making Jack feel like she’s missed something. “Yeah. Yeah you are. So...get better, eh?”

 

“I’m pretty sure this is not how you get better.”

“Says you,” Jack huffs. “Look, I’m on the elliptical, not the treadmill, all right? I’ve finished all my homework, I can’t skate, I can’t watch tv and I need to stay in shape - what do you want me to do?”

Still, Connor scowls. “You could hurt yourself! And then where would we be? We’d be out one of our best players.”

The stubborn set to his chin tells her that he’s not going to relent. Well, she’s not going to, either. She can out-stubborn him anyday. “Fine then, Captain, what do you suggest? To do here,” she continues, when he starts gesturing towards the door. “Because I sure as hell have to do something.”

His eyes sweep over the weight room, considering all their options. “Arms!” he decides. “We can even bench, that should be fine.”

“So generous of you,” Jack snarks, but she steps off the elliptical nonetheless.

Weight-lifting turns into a game of one-upmanship, because of course it does. Jack might be a girl, but genetics have been kind to her and it’s pretty easy for her to put on muscle. So yeah, she feels a little smug that she can bench more than Connor, who’s pretty lanky.

Deceptively lanky though, she thinks, tilting her head a little bit, watching him at the tricep press. She’s never really had a thing for asses despite being a hockey player. Arms - forearms, especially, are another story and the tense and flex of his-

Jack shakes herself out of it. Is she really staring at Connor’s forearms? This is Connor of the weirdly patchy facial hair and dumb face. The dork extraordinaire who is currently building a giant cardboard Trojan horse for the AP Physics boat race.

 _He also has sick hands and apparently nice arms_ , her brain adds oh-so-helpfully.

Maybe she hit the boards harder than she thought. But now that she’s started, she can’t stop, her gaze lingering on his arms and absently wishing that his shirt was tighter.

 _What?_ She almost smacks her forehead, barely remembers in time that she has a head injury, and lets out a strangled scream instead. She spins on her heel and grabs her water bottle, wishing that she could dump it all over her head because clearly she needs some kind of reality check.

“Jack? You okay?” Footsteps approach her from behind. “You look kind of flushed. Do you need to go outside?”

She blows out a breath. “Yeah. Probably.”

It’s drizzling outside but that suits her frame of mind. “You don’t have to come with me,” she mutters, knowing that Connor is keeping pace with her.

“You have a head injury. The last thing I’m doing to do is leave you alone. What if you collapse in the field?”

Jack smirks. “You gonna carry me to Dr. Bowman’s, Davo?”

“Well, yeah.” He sounds bewildered, and the furrow between his brows is not adorable, thank you very much. “I don’t know why you’re acting like I don’t care, Eichs. You’re my friend.”

God. He says it like it’s so obvious, like there’s no question that he’d be there for her. It makes her wonder about what will happen when she does her big reveal. Is he still going to support her like that, unflinchingly? Or is Noah going to be the only one who will have her back?

Her stomach twists painfully at the thought and she places her hand on it absently. It’s not supposed to matter, his trust and regard, but the way sadness is creeping over her mind tells her that it does matter. _He_ matters.

She had not set out to like him, hell, she does not want to like him.

She’s pretty sure she does, though.

Fuck.

 

Dr. Bowman clears her for the Laconia game. Both Noah and Steph give her solemn looks all day, because they know exactly what today means for her. Hell, for all of them. Aunt Alicia and her parents text her good luck, and how excited they are for the game. Alex and all the other Cornwall girls text too and she’s relieved to know that no matter what happens tonight, there are a lot of people out there supporting her.

But she can’t think of what could possibly go wrong. She likes this team, she likes these guys. She _wants_ to keep playing with them, wants to help them get to another National Championship regardless of Boston.

Illyria is hers now and Jack feels an eerie calm settle over her shoulders. It’s hers, and she’s not going to give it up easily.

It’s a home game, thank god, and the Illyrian crowd is decidedly hostile to the swarm of green jerseys. The Spartans, to a man, are all huge and intimidating, and they go hard right from the beginning. Jack can’t count the number of times in that first period alone that their defenders have to clear out the area around the net, protecting Zach at all costs.

And they’re all over Connor. From the moment he steps out on the ice it seems like they’re there, trying to trip him up or force him towards the boards. It’s nearly impossible for them to make any sort of play and Jack’s frustration is at an all-time high towards the end of the first period and the score is still 0-0.

“Fuck off,” she snarls, shoving hard at the guy who has Connor pressed along the boards.

“Yeah, and what are you going to do-” His eyes widen as he catches sight of her. “What the fuck- _Eichel? Jack Eichel?”_

The way he says her name makes her go cold all over. “Yeah, that’s my name. Got a problem?” Please, please, she thinks. It can’t be happening, not like this. Her eyes narrow in on the guy’s face, his number, but she can’t place him. Clearly he can place her.

“Hey guys, break it up and get back to the play,” the linesman says, coming between them.

The guy smirks. “Sure we can, but _she_ can’t,” he says, pointing at Jack.

“What the hell man, have some respect,” Connor snarls, at the same time the linesman scolds, “We don’t condone that kind of language here, son.”

“It’s okay, because she’s actually a girl. Aren’t you, _Jackie_ Eichel? You should just run along and let the big boys play some real hockey now.”

And that makes Jack see red. How dare he imply that she’s somehow lesser, that her skill and her worth are somehow not good enough, just because of her sex. “I’ve _been_ playing real hockey my whole life, asshole, and I’ve been damn good at it,” she spits out, skating around the linesman and cross-checking him. Her smile is mean and biting. “What’s the matter? Can’t take a little competition?”

He shoves at her. “Girls can’t play with guys.”

“And yet here I am!” she shouts back. “And I’m not going anywhere!”

Behind her, Connor makes a punched-out noise. “What...is he telling the truth, Jack?”

The Spartan player laughs incredulously. “Oh man. No one on your team knows?” He turns to the gathered crowd around them, the linesmen and the referee. “See, she admits it! She can’t play, right?”

The linesmen look at the referee, who looks at Jack. “Son-” he begins, then changes his mind. “Eichel. Is he right?”

Jack glances over at Coach Q, whose arms are crossed, then at Connor, who is still staring at her like she’s grown another head. Fuck. _Fuck_. This was definitely not the plan. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. But there’s no going back.

She straightens her shoulders. “Yeah. My name is Jaclyn Eichel, formerly of Cornwall Academy.”

Everyone around her goes quiet but she keeps her head up, her expression defiant.

Finally, Coach Q sighs. “Eichel, I think you’d better go back to the locker room.”

 _No_. He can’t possibly be benching her. “Coach, there’s still a minute to play,” Jack begins.

“Eichel. Just go. We’ll talk during intermission.” And then he just turns and walks away, the rest of her line following after him.

Connor won’t even look at her.

The only thing that buoys her is the knowledge that she has a case here. And even if they somehow decide against her, by god is she going to go out fighting.

So she plants herself in the middle of the locker room and waits.

Then the guys come in, they cut a huge berth around her like she’s a leper. Mitch is staring at her like she’s grown a pod person, and Dylan is glaring at her. It probably has to do with the way Connor is still looking at everything but her, and for some reason that makes her irrationally angry.

Noah claps her on the shoulder on his way to his stall.

Coach Q is the last to come in, followed by the referee and the linesmen. “Well, I suppose you’d better explain yourself, Eichel.”

The locker room doors burst open and Uncle Matt skids in, his hair disheveled. He clearly ran all the way from the stands. “I can-” he begins.

Jack shakes her head. “Nah, Uncle Matt, I got this,” she says, and catches Connor’s flinch, like he’s remembering. Like he’s putting all the pieces together now. It makes her heart hurt, almost as much as the way the rest of the room stirs at her words.

“Most of you know that Cornwall’s girls’ hockey program was cut,” she begins. “I was… well, devastated.” She shrugs, trying to play it off. “It sucked, to feel like I’d just had my full ride to BU yanked out from under me. To feel like that was the end of my hockey.”

The room is utterly silent and Jack takes a deep breath, keeps her eyes locked on Coach Q. She’ll have to deal with the team eventually, but right now she needs hockey. She needs them to understand that this is about _hockey_.

“I needed to go somewhere where I could still play and have a scholarship. The only place around here is Illyria; the only problem is that this a boy’s hockey team. So I went through the rulebook. Cover to cover. There’s nothing that says a girl can’t play. I asked Uncle Matt, I asked my godfather, to keep my identity a secret so I could just play fucking hockey.” She meets Coach Q’s eyes, the referees in turn. “I got here, and I had to prove myself, just like anyone else, but this isn’t about being a girl or being a boy. This is about me being out there on the ice and just _playing_.”

She can’t help the way her eyes dart to Noah, the way she she wishes she could look to Connor for that support and it’s stupid. It’s so dumb. But Noah sits a little straighter and she feels strong enough to look back at Coach. “This was always about the game.”

“It wasn’t just that.” Uncle Matt speaks up then. “I helped Jack because she is a phenomenal player and she deserved this chance. I for one, think she’s proven herself.”

Jack has to look down at the floor to keep her emotions in check. No use in crying now and giving them a dumbass reason to bench her.

“There’s still no precedent for female players in this conference,” the referee begins.

“There is now, isn’t there?” Jack counters. “I’ve played every game from the beginning of this season, and I’ve played _well_. You can’t deny that.” She lets herself look around the room, from face to face, notes the number of nods, and feels bolstered by that. “I’m still the same player I always was. None of that was ever a lie.”

Coach Q is silent, always watching. “No one knew you were a girl, before,” he says, carefully neutral. “Now they’re going to go after you. Can you handle that?”

“You know I can, Coach.” Her answer is quiet, determined. She’s taken those hits before. It won’t be anything new. They’ll have to damn well catch her first.

His face is inscrutable as he turns to face the referee, who looks over at one of the linesman. “Ms. Eichel is right,” the linesman says, holding up the rule book. “There is nothing here that says girls can’t play.”

“So we’ll leave it to you, Coach,” the referee says after thinking it over. “If you want her to play, there’s nothing in the guidelines against it.” With a nod, they leave the locker room.

Silence reigns for a long, tense moment and Coach Q finally looks at Jack. “You’re right, Eichel. You’ve definitely proven yourself. You’re a good player and I’m happy to have you. However-” He holds up a hand when Jack opens her mouth. “I shouldn’t be the only one to make this decision. After all, I’m not the one playing with you.” He glances around the locker room. “Thoughts?”

Noah’s the first one to get to his feet, trustworthy, stalwart Noah. “I’ve known,” he begins. “For a while.” He shrugs. “Hasn’t changed anything. She belongs here, with us, on this team.”

Mitch lets out a tragic sigh but even Jack can tell it’s entirely fake. “I guess he’s - ugh - _she’s_ a pretty good linemate, so.” He stands up too. Slowly, all around the room, the guys give their agreement and stand.

All except Connor. Jack finds herself holding her breath. It’s her fear unfolding in front of her, the worry and concern that she’s lost his trust. Or, more importantly, that she’s lost his friendship. Her heart is pounding in her chest and it takes so much self-control to just keep breathing.

“Connor?” Noah prompts.

Finally, Connor’s shoulders relax and he looks up, forearms braced on his thighs. “This team needs her,” he says, sure of at least that much. Everyone can hear it, in the way his quiet voice carries across the room. It is a relief. Not a total relief, and Jack will never admit to it being such out loud, but it is a relief.

“Then let’s get back out there,” Coach says, and locks eyes with Jack. “Eichel, lead the way.”

The looks on the Spartan’s bench when Jack leads the team back to the ice are priceless.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” their coach yells through the glass. “She’s a girl!”

“Let me tell you something, buddy!” Coach Q yells back without missing a beat. “Here at Illyria we don’t discriminate based on gender!”

The loudspeaker sounds. “Illyria Prep-” And holy shit that’s Uncle Matt. “Please give a warm welcome to your Number Fifteen, Jaclyn Eichel, formerly of Cornwall Academy’s girls’ hockey team!”

For a moment, the crowd is abuzz with confused murmurs. Jack stands up defiantly, and waves.

“Yeah Jack! Attagirl!” someone screams from the stands, and it sounds like Steph.

Suddenly, the arena erupts and the sounds of the audience’s screams are deafening. Jack can practically feel the glass rattling around the arena and the rumble of stomping feet shaking its very foundations.

“Let’s not let them down boys, eh?” she shouts, and jumps over the boards.

The game is messy. She’s never had to play with her head up so much, or use her speed to get her out of so many hairy situations.

Or drag her teammates out of so many fights. “Look, I appreciate the gesture,” she tells the guys during the second intermission. Illyria has a one-goal lead thanks to a power play goal, but she’s very much aware that if things get as chippy and penalty-filled in the third period, they’re going to have a problem. “But no more duels over my honor, okay? I don’t care what they think, and you shouldn’t either.”

“It’s just basic human decency, Eichs!” Sebastian protests. “It goes beyond chirping and someone has to show them it isn’t right.” There are more than a few murmured assents.

“So we’ll teach them - and everyone else - a lesson. Just stay out of the penalty box doing it,” Connor says firmly. Jack rolls her eyes at him because he’s been particularly bad about it, getting into a few shouting and shoving matches of his own.

“Come on Eichel, are you scared of a little fight? Scared of a little blood?” A Spartan player taunts when they get back onto the ice for the first face-off.

That just about destroys Jack, who laughs and laughs and laughs. “Buddy, I see more blood in a month than you’ll probably ever see in a year.” She has the distinct pleasure of watching him go nearly as green as his jersey. “Try another one.”

She skates back to the bench shaking her head, still chuckling almost reflexively. “A little blood,” she says to herself. “Fuck.”

Noah arches an eyebrow as he shuffles to make room. “What was that about?”

“My period,” Jack replies cheerfully and while Noah’s brow wrinkles, she gets the distinct pleasure of watching Dylan go stark white on Noah’s other side.

“That’s a non-beauty.”

“Nah,” Jack replies, bouncing a little in twisted giddy glee. This is not what she’d expected to use an advantage as a woman in the game. “He asked if I was scared of blood.” Her grin is sharp when she turns it on Noah. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

Dylan makes a pained noise and escapes so fast he almost sends himself head first over the boards when Coach Q taps his helmet.

Of course, when she says ‘try another one’, she means, ‘try another chirp,’ not ‘trip me when I’m on a breakaway’, but them’s the breaks and Jack almost sighs as she hits the ice, sliding into the goalie’s pads as the whistle blows.

“Shit,” she mumbles under her breath, getting to her feet. The guys are screaming from the bench and her suspicions are confirmed when the referee makes a very familiar gesture.

 _Penalty shot_.

Shootouts and penalty shots can freak people out. They get too stuck in their own heads, desperately trying to out-think the goalie. If I look this way, will it telegraph my deke? If I move here, will the goalie move there?

For Jack, it’s an opportunity to show everyone exactly how good she is. To show Illyria, once and for all, that she belongs on the team. She squares her shoulders, settles herself; they need her.

She needs them too, and not just because of BU. This is her team now, and she’ll do whatever she can to stay with them.

The referee gives her the go-ahead.

In moments like this, everything goes quiet. There’s only the scrape of her skates, the click of the puck on her stick, and the beat of her heart in her chest. In front of her looms the net, and the goalie who guards it.

She draws the goalie out with some fancy moves, deftly avoiding the pokecheck. Then, with her forearms screaming, she roofs the puck over his shoulder with a flick of her wrist - and right into the back of the net.

Her arms fly into the air as the Illyrian crowd goes insane. She’s done it.

 

The school doesn’t waste any time moving her out of her room with Noah and into one with Steph. Illyria is of course abuzz with all the gossip. Still, it’s a relief to go to class as herself, as girl Jack, rather than boy Jack (and not in heels, thanks Steph). For that, she doesn’t mind the whispers and looks.

It’s easier with the guys. The game showed them that she’s still the same Jack, just with different equipment than they expected. The only difference is there is now a cordoned-off section of locker room where she changes, and there’s definitely no expectation that she’s going to be in the showers.

Well. And there’s Connor. Connor, who’s been absolutely fine when they’re practicing but otherwise has kept a little distance. Sure, he’s polite enough but he doesn’t joke the way they did, or even look at her the same way. It stings and she doesn’t quite understand why.

Okay fine, she understands why. She understands why too well. She really does kind of like the dude and it hurts to think that maybe…that something’s changed now that he knows she’s, well, _her_.

She tries to ask Dylan about it, but he only laughs in her face. “Eichs, that’s just something you gotta ask Davo. I’m not getting in the middle of it.”

“He’s in-” Mitch begins, but Dylan slaps a hand over his mouth and drags him away. Noah and Steph are equally useless - they just grin at her and refuse to tell her what’s so funny.

“Maybe you should ask him to the Winter Wonderland Ball,” Stephs suggests as they’re shopping for said dance.

Jack wrinkles her nose. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Steph just gives her a look. “Don’t even try to lie to me, Jack Eichel.”

She can’t lie to Steph, period. So she just doesn’t say anything. But she does buy a dress for the dance.

In the end, Connor’s the one who finds her, sitting up in the stands long after practice has finished. “Hey,” he says softly, settling beside her.

“Hey,” she echoes somewhat warily, a little bitter. Oh, so _now_ he wants to talk to her?

He stares at his hands for a moment. “I was going to ask Coach for permission to date you, you know. Before.”

And what. WHAT.

“I was also going to ask you to Winter Wonderland.” He’s still staring fixedly away from her, out onto the expanse of ice, freshly clean and sparkling under the lights.

Jack has to actually focus to get her mouth to close. “You...were going to ask me while I was still a guy?” Out of everything she imagined, she never could have imagined _this_. She made Connor McDavid go through a sexuality crisis?

“ I told you once, Stromer says I’m hockey-sexual because I was attracted to you, and a big part of that was your hockey.” He smiles a little, still looking out at the ice, leg jumping a little. “I asked him if I was possibly bi and that’s uh, where it comes from. Your sick hockey.”

Jack laughs a little. “Yeah, I’m pretty good. As a guy and a girl.”

“As _anyone_ ,” Connor corrects, glancing over at her. “That was you on the beach, wasn’t it?” At her nod, his shoulders relax and he nods too, as though he’s making his mind up. “I was so confused after that day. Because I felt the same way about Jackie as I felt about Jack. Then when you told the truth at the Laconia game, it was like everything turned upside down again.”

Jack bites her lip because she wants to blurt out the same thing she did then, that nothing’s really changed but clearly something has changed for him. Maybe he really did like guy Jack better than girl Jack. It kind of sucks to think about because girl Jack, she’s been able to admit to herself, really does like him, dumb face and all.

But then he looks at her, really looks at her, and her breath catches because there it is again, that _look_ , one she recognizes now for what it is: admiration. Regard. Heart-eyes. “I told Coach after the game, you’re still you. You really are, and we still play amazing hockey together, exactly like you said.” His grin is a little crooked, a little nervous and his shrug comes off as a little terrified, and not at all nonchalant. “Maybe we can be like that off the ice, too.”

Her heart thumps.  

“So,” he goes on, shifting so he can face her better, straight on, “I have to ask: do you like cheese?”

She bursts out laughing again, relief and giddiness making her feel so, so _light_. “I do. My favorite is Gorgonzola.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and he’s leaning in now, she’s sure of it. “My friend’s favourite cheese is Gorgonzola too.”

Jack’s shaking a little in laughter, but shifts her weight, opening up her body language as she watches his eyes flick down to her mouth. “Oh yeah?”

His grin shifts into something horribly goofy and it makes her smile back, makes her stomach turn over pleasantly. “He was a pretty cool guy except, um.” He pulls back a little, and Jack finds herself leaning forward in reflex. “Except he wasn’t a guy.”

She fakes a gasp and goes still when Connor brushes his nose against hers. “He wasn’t?”

“Nope.” She feels the pop of the ‘p’ like a puff of air over her lips. “It’s a little Shakespeare, but it turns out the guy that’s actually a girl? She’s pretty cool as a girl too.”

Jack’s laughing as he kisses her, leaning in to get herself under control and chase the feeling of his mouth, the taste of his lips.

“Pretty cool, huh?” she asks softly when the kiss ends. She has to look just as stupid as he does, smiling against his mouth and unable to stop herself. “Cool enough to ask to Winter Wonderland? Cool enough to ask Coach’s permission to date?”

He reaches out and takes her hand in his. “Yeah. Definitely cool enough for that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream with us on tumblr: [wonthetrade](http://wonthetrade.tumblr.com>wonthetrade.</a>).
> 
> Spot all the "She's the Man" quotes for cookies!


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